


Handguns, Vodka, Tesseracts

by Astronomical_Aphrodite



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brotherly Love, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Incest, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Platonic Relationships, SHIELD, SHIELD Agent Loki (Marvel), Slow Burn, Thanos Can Suck a Dick, The Tesseract (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-13 02:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronomical_Aphrodite/pseuds/Astronomical_Aphrodite
Summary: He’d escaped Thanos with his life, but he had been left a shell of his former self, with no name, no title, and no family. So, seeking out a new purpose and guaranteed safety, he pulls a stunt he knows is bound to draw attention.—Please check tags and warnings! It won’t get too heavy, but I like to play it safe.
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Loki, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Laura Barton & Loki, Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/T'Challa (Marvel), Nick Fury & Loki, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Phil Coulson & Loki
Comments: 14
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter One

When he finally collapsed in the corner of the Midgardian alleyway, nestled between a gargantuan waste container constructed of green metal and a stone wall, it was simultaneously both a relief and a weight that crashed upon his shoulders. Dressed in little more than a worn pair of trousers, with a rugged blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders like a shawl, the wind didn’t nip nearly as harshly at his skin than he knew it would for any other. Bundled into as tight a ball as he could make himself, he hardly noticed when he started to cry, the soft sobs erupting from his throat drowned out by the pouring rain.

June second of the year two-thousand and ten, he had released his brother’s hand and fell into the void. It hadn’t seemed as if it could get much worse; the revelation that he was adopted, his fath- Odin’s disappointment, the betrayal clear and raw in his brother’s eyes. He was ready and willing to greet death like an old friend even if he feared her, the thought of a swift end being the only thing motivating him.

As a child, he had been told spilling off the edge of the world was certain death. He remembered skipping across stones in the water as a youth, careful not to fall into the expansive bay for fear of being swept by the currents off the face of the disc-world.

He had no recollection of being told that the void was where monsters made their homes. He doubted that knowledge was possessed by anyone.

Well, other than himself, now.

Curled in the corner, he allowed the raindrops to run in rivulets down his forehead, dancing across his eyelashes and mingling with his tears while they crossed his lips and dripped off his chin. His feet, bloodied and scraped from running across rugged terrain, radiated with both burning pain and aching relief, now that they could rest at last. His hip ached from a dislocation that was barely beginning to heal. The gaping lashes across the span of his back, birthed by the cracks of a whip, stung like nothing he’d ever felt. His skull was pounding worse than the worst of his headaches. His throat was parched. His stomach ached with both hunger and bruising. With each rattling, heaving breath, his lungs pressed against his broken ribcage and sternum.

Whatever fate had awaited him for his treason on Asgard, it could never have been any worse than what he had experienced.

He didn’t even know how long he had been gone for.

The most painful hurt of all was how desperately he wanted his mother. To be held and cradled by her, kisses pressed against his temple and her hushed voice whispering soothing words to him as he fell asleep. The need to have her with him was an empty pit in his heart, eating him alive from the inside out, devouring him until eventually nothing would remain.

Odin may never have been his father, but Frigga was beyond a doubt his mother. From the magic he carried with him to the shape of his smile, from his mannerisms to his movements, in every way but blood he was hers. And Norns does he miss her.

He attempts to summon the final dregs of his seidur, but he’s weakened from his escape and what (he guessed) was weeks without any proper care; the only magic that’s flowing through is veins is being dedicated to maintaining his Aesir guise, and to starting to repair broken skin and other nasty wounds. Well, all that and preserving the little blue stone burning a hole in his pocket.

Footsteps approached, audible even being muffled under the falling droplets as they were. In a more stable state, he may have tried to flee, or attack, but as it was he could hardly bring himself to care. Swiftly, he wiped at his dampened eyes with his blanket, although the rain masked the tears fine enough, and straightened out his posture in an attempt to look larger than he actually was.

“Hey, buddy. You can move pretty fast for how rough a shape you’re in.” A voicemurmured, tone calm. “I lost you a couple times in the way here, but I knew you’d have to settle somewhere.”

The figure neared, and when they got close he could see her fully. Long brown hair soaked with rain, soft smile, and dressed in a sweater and a floral skirt. No visible weapons, but one didn’t need to look intimidating to be dangerous. She was probably a threat, but he felt resignation seeping into his muscles.

Despite his tiredness, he summoned all the strength and resentment inside of him to smirk. “Agent of Thanos,” he started, voice raspy with the abuse it suffered, “come to find me, I see? Disappointed that I managed to escape, even in the state I’m in?”

Her brow furrowed, but she continued walking forwards, stopping several feet away. She knelt down, elbows on her knees. “I don’t know of any ‘Agents of Thanos’,” she started, likely playing the part of the idiot in order to get him to follow willingly, “but I know a special agent who can help you. Do you wanna come with me?” The question was posed like she was attempting to befriend a cowering animal, which he _wasn’t_. He shrunk back on his hackles, but she didn’t try to get any closer. “What’s your name?”

His name. He wasn’t giving her his name. “It- it’s Loki,” he gasped out, and damn it, why did he give her his name? A truth compulsion spell or aura? The Mind Stone? His fragile state of mind? Some piece of Titan technology? “I-“

“It’s okay, you don’t need to speak. I know your throat probably hurts a lot.” She muttered, reaching into a bag at her side. She withdrew a small rectangular device, tapping on several buttons before she held it up to her ear. It looked like a primitive communication device. “Hi, babe.” She starts, evidently not directing it at him, although for a moment she winks and presses a finger against her closed lips. “Good. Uh, yeah, I called to ask about how much your work deals with, um, normal crimes? Like abuse and stuff.” He could hear something being shouted over the end of the line, and the woman rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I _am_ being safe. I just, I found someone who needs help. Yes,” she rolled her eyes again, “I’m certain that he’s not going to ‘harm’ me. Just, here, I’ll ping you my location and you can come pick us up.”

She pulled the device away from her ear, tapped several more buttons, then, ignoring the continued incessant ringing from the device, she muted it and tucked it back into where it was stored. He couldn’t help but stare at her, and she smiled brightly, leaning her chin on her hands.

“I’m a licensed nurse,” she said, scanning him down and up, “and I can see you have some pretty bad injuries there. Can you let me take a look at them?”

She hadn’t attempted to harm him, and evidently either she wasn’t lying when she said she had no knowledge of Thanos, or she was a skilled mage in the art of deception. Quietly, he nodded, and she shuffled forwards, peeling back the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Glancing at his bruised abdomen, her lips turned downwards in an expression of concern, and carefully she ran her fingers across his chest. When he hissed, she pulled back.

Quick as it went, the smile was back, although her eyes looked pained. He was fairly certain now that this was just some mortal who happened upon him by chance. Maybe that gave him a chance of survival, but for what purpose? He couldn’t live a life worth living, at this point. “My husband should be here soon, so don’t worry. You’re gonna’ be safe from whatever you were running from a little bit ago.” Laughable. “Can you tell me anything about your family? Any friends we can call to tell them you’re safe?”

“I used to have a family,” he murmured, intentionally sounding vague. She didn’t deserve his life story. “I don’t think I’ve ever had friends, truly.”

There was pity in her eyes, and it made him want to lash out, scream, fight, spit at her. He stayed quiet. “I’m sorry.” She said, and it sounded like she was mourning for him. “I’m Laura,” she started, “and my hubby’s Clint. We have a five year old, he’s Cooper, and we have a toddler who was just born a couple years ago. She’s Lila.” Laura sat down with a huff, sliding forwards so that they were knee to knee. She took his hands into hers, and he didn’t know why he allowed it. “I’m twenty-five years old...”

In the end, it took approximately fifteen minutes of her telling him her full life story for the husband named ‘Clint’ to arrive, pulling up in an armed vehicle more fit for military service than civilian use. He jumped out, all short blonde hair and muscle. When he approached, the man felt like an executioner. She stood up, and he pulled her close in an embrace, head on her shoulder. “You should have just called emergency services, Laura,” he muttered, and if he were mortal he likely wouldn’t have heard him.

He pulled back from her, leaning down to his level, and put a heavy hand on his shoulder. Loki definitely didn’t flinch. Nope.

“Hey,” he murmured, “can you walk?”

To prove a point, Loki stood abruptly to his feet, but the world turned and shifted and suddenly, he was falling over as his left leg gave out. He was caught with strong arms around his chest, and pain lanced through him like electricity. A pained gasp left his lips unwarranted, and he swallowed down a scream. “Clint!” The woman yelled in shock, and he felt himself being hefted up onto a strong shoulder, body braced firmly against the man’s chest. When his vision stabilized, his body was lying in his arms like a bride, face firmly pressed into his neck.

“Sorry, man.” He huffed, voice strained. “Let’s get you to the car. I’ll take you to a hospital, cause you definitely need one.”

He’s laid in the backseat of a vehicle, and the feeling of the plush seat on his sore body was wonderful after weeks without anything but cold metal floors and uncomfortable interrogation chairs. Laura got in with him, laying his head on her lap, and the man hopped into the front seat; they questioned him as the odd carriage started to move, but he couldn’t summon the strength to respond.

Her lap felt like Frigga’s, and he allowed himself the small comfort of pretending for a moment that she was his mother, whom he would likely never see again. The thought was sobering.

He faded in and out of consciousness until they parked at a tall, sleek building; when they opened the doors, there was a collection of what seems like healers waiting with a white bed on wheels. He was shifted to that while they started to transport him inside, Laura continuing to hold his hand while he was moved into a small room. There’s a prick of pain in the crook of his left arm, then another, before the world cut to black.


	2. Chapter Two

Clint watched the man’s chest move while he breathed, and he mulled over what he knew of aliens and trauma victims.

The noirette had said his name was Loki, and when the doctors opened him up they had found a diverse collection of strange organs inside of him that definitely weren’t in the correct human positions. It was only August twenty-fourth; it had been barely over a month and a half since an alien and/or extra-dimensional being calling himself ‘Thor’ came tearing through middle-of-nowhere Nevada, so there was a pretty decent chance his hunch that they were related was correct. A ‘Thanos’ was likely chasing him, also according to what Laura was told by him; whether that was an individual or an organization, there were ‘Agents’ after his ass.

Whatever Thanos was, it did an awful lot of damage. The doctors had needed to put a shit ton of metal pins and plates into his chest just to make sure he didn’t accidentally punch a hole in his lungs with his ribs, and the man was so dehydrated they weren’t sure how he survived that long, not to mention the obvious signs of torture displayed on his shredded back and by the extensive bruise pattern mottling his face and neck. Broken limbs, recent complete dislocations, torn tendons that needed surgical repairs, a mild brain bleed that had been dealt with before any lasting damage was done. Certainly not just superficial damage, but the man endured his surgeries easily, and despite the ugliness of the wounds the doctors said they were healing well.

Garbed in a pristine white hospital gown, skin pale as the moon and dark hair splayed across his pillows, pallid flesh pulled taught around bone with little muscle or fat, he looked almost like a corpse. Certainly if it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest and the beeping of the monitor, that’s what he would’ve thought; that he was a dead man in a morgue. But as it was, he was broken, but not irreparably, even having been wasting away in a hospital bed for nearly six days. What scars and trauma were left by his abuse waited to be seen, but he would almost certainly survive his experience.

A vase of sunflowers sat on the nightstand, given with love by his wife to a man she had met dying alone in an empty alleyway. ‘He said he’s never had friends, and you know how I am with strays,’ she had confessed under the light of the fluorescent hospital hallway, and he had immediately known that this she had grown attached. She always did, with the broken ones; she had a place in her heart for everything that needed ‘fixing’. It was how they had fallen in love in the first place, after all.

He ended up being ‘persuaded’ into baby-sitting the man for nearly eight hours every day; the workload for SHIELD had been light, as of late, and the man recuperating in their high-tech medical facility was quickly deemed their current number-one potential threat, despite the fact that he seemed like he would be incapable of killing a damn flower if it was handed to him in a pot that said ‘pick me’.

So, when ‘Loki’ had stirred, eyelids fluttering open as the heart rate on the monitor picked up speed, he figured it was probably fine to settle for pressing the ‘call nurse’ button on the machinery attached to him. He did his darnedest at giving a friendly smile, but it likely turned out a little tired or insincere. He felt sorry just on principal when the man’s eyes widened and he had lurched forwards in his hospital bed, tugging at the fabric over his chest.

“Where....” he started, voice raspy and barely audible.

“A hospital.” He gave as a non-specific response. “You took quite a beating, and needed some emergency medical care, so we brought you here.”

A moment passed where the man simply stared, before he shook his head and leaned back against the bed with a grunt. He brought up a frail hand to rub at his eyelids, legs stretching out beneath the blankets as much as they could with the bulky cast on his left leg, and took a shuddering inhale before breathing out again. “How good is this planet’s defense system?” He asked abruptly, despite the fact that he sounded like he’d smoked twenty packs a day for fifty years, and Clint laughed incredulously, a little worried. The guy clearly knew something, and if he was asking on a planetary scale, well, he should count himself lucky he didn’t seem too opposed to helping him.

“Pretty bad, considering we didn’t know aliens existed until just under two months ago, but we’re working on it right now.” He paused, watching how the man’s face grew crestfallen, twisting into something fearful before hardening again. Definitely not a good sign. “What,” he continued, fishing for more information, “is there something we should be worried about?”

A moment of silence, before the man raised his right hand, and emerald light swept over it, dancing over his fingertips like flames around firewood. Clint couldn’t be blamed if he startled a little. “With absolute certainty,” he said, eyes haunted as they pointed towards the ceiling, “yes.” He made no effort to elaborate further.

“Is it anything in the immediate future?” Clint asked, voice strained. The man shrugged, not lowering his fingertips.

“He may choose to attack now,” he breathed, “or never.” His eyes fluttered closed, brows furrowing, and the green light flashed again. He was trying to do something, although he couldn’t be sure what. The nurses were sure taking a while to respond to the call button. “However, I can sense the suffocating presence of two Stones on this planet, although you likely have no clue what I am speaking of,” he continued, eyes fluttering closed, “so it would be safe to assume the attack will come sooner rather than later.”

With a pop, all the lights in the room exploded, and Clint launched to his feet, watching as the tendrils of what he could only assume was magic curling around his fingertips a final time. A blue stone dropped into the man’s palm, and his face finally smoothed, the pieces of glass returning into bulbs and turning back on just in time for a nurse to knock on the door.

“Come in!” Clint yelled, voice pitched high while he settled back into the bedside chair.

A woman walked inside, wearing a lab coat and simple blue scrubs, and she gave them each an easy smile, fiddling with the clipboard in her arms. “I see you’re up and awake!” She said to ‘Loki’, and the man looked completely disinterested. “You took a pretty hard beating, but you’ve been recovering faster than any of us would’ve expected. How are you feeling right now?”

“Parched,” the man croaked, as if he hadn’t just summoned a glowing azure rock from absolutely nowhere, although the nurse didn’t seem to notice.

She just laughed as if he’d told a funny joke. “I’ll get you some water, and fetch the doctor,” she said, leaving through the open door she came through, and that was that.

When the door was closed, a thick black eyebrow rose at him, as if asking him to make a comment. So he did. “What the hell is that thing?” He asked, leaning his elbows on the arms of the chair and balancing his chin on his right palm, knee starting to bounce.

“The Space Stone.” He answered easily, and Clint raised his own brow.

“And what is that?” He asked further, folding his fingers. The man laughed airily, flicking it easily between his hands like a coin.

While he still looked pained, and his smirk was strained, it was still unnaturally smug. “You might call it the Tesseract.”

He was grabbing his bow and quiver of arrows from besides the chair in seconds, aiming several at the man’s head; he looked remarkably unthreatened by the display. “How did you get that?” Clint asked, voice low, and Loki’s smirk softened into an almost unnoticeable upturn of his lips.

“Trust me,” he started, voice somber once more, “if I could find and steal it even in my weakened state, you have no chance against Thanos when he comes for it.” He turned his head up to look at Clint, face wiped carefully neutral. Clint knew the look of a man who was bargaining for something important, and Loki seemed to be making a high-stakes gamble. “I have no intention to harm you, archer Barton. You may lower your weapon, else we get nowhere with this... pleasant, productive conversation that we’re having.”

Slowly, he did so, if only because he had no other option, really. SHIELD was probably working on code red right now trying to find the Tesseract, if that really was it, and he needed to get the situation handled as soon as he possibly could. “What do you propose we do then, if this threat is as bad as you’re making it out to be?” He asked, setting down his weapon.

“I propose that whatever ‘agency’ is responsible for you and this,” he held out the stone in his flat open palm, “accept me into its ranks, and allow me to take over all aspects of the management of interplanetary security for the time being.” That was a tall order, and Loki seemed to know that. “Once my seidur- ah, magic is strong again,” he continued, “I can help set wards against future unwelcome visitors.” He paused. “I mean, of course, that nothing would be able to enter through this atmosphere without your knowledge. For both my peace of mind and your benefit.”

While it was a tall order, if he was telling the truth it was a good offer, at the very least. The security they’d been needing along with a powerful new ally? He figured that even if Fury didn’t want to let him have the control he was clearly seeking that he would at least want this guy to be on the Avengers, should they really go through with the plan to open up that can of worms. “Fine.” He answered at last, folding his arms and sitting back down in the chair. “I’ll talk to my boss about hiring you on, and-“

The door was kicked down in a plume of broken wood, and immediately a squadron of maybe ten SHIELD enforcers burst into the hospital room, guns raised and aimed at the man on the bed. His expression turned into one of faux innocence, glancing towards Clint, and really, what the fuck had happened before his wife had found the man in that alleyway?

—

Fury was tired with all the bullshit.

His best agent, Barton, was sitting across from him next to yet another haughty alien, and although he seemed significantly more subdued than his counterpart, he’d managed to break into their facility from the inside while sporting injuries severe enough that anyone else would probably be dead, most of all him, who was so thin he looked like a weak gust of wind could knock him over. He fiddled mindlessly with the Tesseract, reduced somehow to a tiny stone as if it was a coin, although Fury couldn’t help but notice the way his hands trembled, and the nervous way he kept looking over his shoulder.

Barton? Bullshit.

Dead man walking? Bullshit.

The Tesseract? Bullshit.

He’d quit if he knew what was good for him.

“So to recap,” Fury said slowly, “you,” he pointed at the black-haired alien who sounded like he’d swallowed a cheese grater, “escaped the torture of a genocidal purple maniac, came here, stole the Tesseract to prove a point, and now want to join my organization.” The man rolled his eyes, pouting at the summary of events, and Fury turned to Clint. “And your wife, who we’ve been trying to keep in hiding for you, accidentally found him and brought him to the hospital with wounds so bad he should have been killed ten times over, while you played along.”

“Doesn’t that mean you should just accept me as part of your organization, then?” The man said, raspy voice tinged with a British accent, and he fought the urge to scowl. “If I managed to do all that I did, then you would surely have use for me. Better to have one such as I as an ally rather than a foe.”

That was true, and he hated that it was true. “Sure.” He admitted a little too easily. “We need as much help as we can get, even with our little domestic issues. But what we don’t need,” he spat, “is someone who thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants just because he’s got a little magic.” A brow raised, and he felt irritated that the man couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to feel scolded. “If you can fix that attitude of yours, you’ve got yourself a deal.” He finished, sitting back again, and the man nodded, plucking at the hospital gown he still wore while tossing the Tesseract into the air. It disappeared, and he huffed in irritation. “You do know we’re gonna’ need that back, right?”

“Sure,” the man quipped, a mockery of Fury’s own response, and Fury had the mounting suspicion that he was going to end up more trouble than he was worth. Nevertheless, he nodded to Coulson, who smiled knowingly in that saintly way of his and walked up to the desk.

“In that case,” Fury said, crossing his arms and glowering as best he could without letting his exhaustion spill through, “welcome to SHIELD, Agent...”

“Friggason,” he filled in, and that was all he needed to hear.

He hoped this one would turn out half as helpful as Carol, and cause much less collateral than Thor.

—

If Coulson was excited to meet Thor, he was just as excited to meet another literal deity, especially one who was now working towards the same goals as his beloved organization.

He helped the man through the initiation process alongside Clint, changing him into something more presentable than a hospital gown before taking him, barely limping even after tearing all the tendons in his hip and having his left femur snapped like a toothpick only six days before, to have his identification and access card made. They’d dealt with the shocked awe of the ID photographer who’d been amazed at ‘Loki Friggason’ (a stark juxtaposition to the name ‘Thor Odinson’), and the man had caressed the card inside of the little plastic slip that hung on the lanyard around his neck like it was something truly special. Maybe to him, it was.

He sat through an orientation video they make all the new recruits sit through, even though the three of them were the only ones in the ginormous theater because new recruits were hired in January, not August, but he suffered it well, paying attention but seeming unbothered by all the jargon he likely had no clue the meaning of. The history of SHIELD passed before his eyes and he hardly seemed to care, although Coulson could tell he was simply hiding his interest behind a veneer of boredom. A self-defense mechanism.

He’d unbuttoned his grey suit jacket the second they’d stepped outside the theater, hair tying itself back without hands manipulating it while the tie around his throat turned green, and he had to bite his cheek to keep from gushing over how cool it was, although evidently Loki had noticed his amazement by the smirk he struggled to keep off his own mouth. They’d walked through the halls, Coulson taking note when the god summoned a cane and began walking with it to alleviate the obvious pain in his leg, when he should have been on bedrest in a hospital. He stopped them in the middle of the bustling hallway.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be resting right now?” He asked, concerned, and the man frowned. “I mean, you broke half the bones in your body, like, a week ago. You should be laying down.”

He shook his head. “There are many dangerous manipulators working against us with their machinations from the shadows, and-“

“They can wait until you’re healed.” He interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking imploringly at Clint. The man took a moment, but eventually his mouth opened into an ‘o’ of realization, nodding.

“It’s probably for the best you take a rest for now.” He concurred with Coulson, and the black-haired man scoffed under his breath. “You only woke up from a six-day coma today-“ Coulson’s brows flew up in surprise, “-and you were tortured-“ he saw Loki flinch at the word, “-for who knows how long.” After a pregnant pause, he continued. “Laura and I have an extra room in the house, and you’re welcome to stay there if you have nowhere else to go. Not to mention you’ll be at peak performance sooner if you’re well rested.”

Another moment of silence, before he sighed. “Fine,” he murmured, turning to him with emerald eyes that seemed to hold enormous depth. “I owe you many thanks for your assistance, Son of Coul,” he drawled, dipping his head in a courteous nod, and, pressing a palm against Clint’s forehead, he and the archer disappeared in a burst of blue light.

It was all so much more exciting than police academy.

—

He followed where the man’s memories were leading them, arriving in a grassy field, trees forming a wide meadow in which a barn-house sat. Barton collapsed on the ground to his right, chest heaving while he shook his head rapidly like a beast shaking off the raindrops, and Loki frowned at the way his hip twinged awfully with impact on the ground, suppressing a grunt. The cane helped with walking, but the pain was still there. He hoped it would be gone, considering that the rest of his injuries had healed almost completely by then, but the awful ache and the burn in his throat just wouldn’t go away.

Fantastic.

“Are you alright?” He croaked, vaguely concerned despite himself, and Barton laughed breathlessly.

“That was so fucking weird, man.” He grunted, slowly rising to his feet. He looked up, glancing around, and his eyebrows popped up almost to his slightly receding hairline. “I guess you decided to beam us home then, Scotty?”

He frowned. “My name isn’t Scotty.”

Barton chuckled again, this time with a bit more humor. “It’s a reference to a show called Star Trek.” Loki continued to look at him, and his wide grin melted into something softer. With a gentle pat on Loki’s frail back, he started to lead him forwards towards the home. “I’ll have to show it to you, sometime.”

It was an appealing thought. That he could have a little peace before everything went to Hel again. “Perhaps,” he agreed, lips quirking upwards.

One foot in front of the other was difficult, and all of his attention was dedicated to making sure the limp of his left leg wasn’t exposed, even as the walked through the front door. In a flash, something was barreling towards them, colliding with Barton, and Loki tensed until he realized that it was only a small child, with the same dark hair as his mother. “Dad’s home!” He screamed in a shrill voice, and Loki couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. He always had been fond of children.

Footsteps pattered in the hallway, and Laura came in, a small girl he assumed was her daughter leaning on her shoulder while she carried her. She smiled brilliantly, and he missed his mother horribly. “Loki! Clint!” She breathed, joy underpinning her words. “Welcome home.” She walked up to her husband, pressing a kiss against his lips, before handing their daughter off to him and turning to Loki. She embraced him before he had time to react, arms wrapping around his waist, and he stood still as a tree while she did so. Peeling back, hands on his shoulders, she looked down at the badge hanging around his throat. A smug smile danced on her face. “I see someone has a new work friend?” She said pointedly, turning towards Barton, and he shrugged.

“He’s competent. What else can I say?” He said playfully, and a warm feeling settled itself in his stomach. He’d been wary about committing, but this was fine for a temporary residence. A bit too much like home, sure, but fine enough.

“Is it alright if I stay with your family for the time being, m’lady?” He asked as politely as he could, flexing the diplomacy muscles he hadn’t used in ages, not since before he was captured. It had hardly been a week, and yet his life had completely turned around. Maybe he could forge something better out of this second chance. “Only for a short while, I assure you.”

She beamed. “Stay for as long as you want! A week, a year,” Barton raised a skeptical eyebrow, “I don’t care as long as you’re happy and healthy.”

“I genuinely appreciate your generosity and hospitality, and owe you much gratitude.” He thanked, and she smiled wider, if at all possible. “I especially appreciate what you did for me one week ago. It was a...” he searched for the words, “difficult period for me, and without you I certainly would not have made it through the night.”

She pulled him into another embrace, and this time he reciprocated, ready for it. He tucked his hands around her waist, one palm on the small of her back while his other, holding his cane, pressed against it. He stuck his tongue out at Barton, whose son giggled, and the man stuck his tongue out back at him.

Finally, they peeled away, and she rubbed lightly at his arms. “Let’s get you situated, hmm?” She asked, and he nodded.

“We have the extra bedroom upstairs that we’re only using for storage.” Barton suggested. “I’ll move everything up into the attic after we’ve got lunch done and ready.”

He frowned. “I would be perfectly fine sleeping in your sitting room.” He said, and Laura tsked, wagging a finger.

“No guest of mine is sleeping on the floor, young man,” she scolded.

He was no ‘young’ man. “I assure you that I am no less than forty times your age, m’lady. I am certainly no ‘young man’.” He corrected, and her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, mouth puckering into an ‘o’ shape before her shock was replaced with amusement.

She turned to her husband. “Is he being funny or serious, honey?” She asked and he sighed.

“Unfortunately, he summoned stuff out of thin air and broke into the most secure facility in the world shortly before you found him.” He drawled, shaking his head. She snorted. “If the man says that he’s a millennium old, he’s a millennium old, no doubt about it. He’s definitely either a stage magician, or an actual magician.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She dismissed with ease, reaching up to pat his cheek. It felt nice. “Even if you aren’t young, you’re injured. You’re going to need a bed to heal properly.”

With a sigh, he gave in. “Fine.” Turning to Barton, he added, “But I’ll be doing any of the heavy-lifting involved with clearing out the room you speak of.”

“I don’t see how you could-“ Barton started, but he closed his eyes, ignoring him completely.

“You’ll see.” He interrupted, drawing upon the power of the Space Stone. He knew that it was no plaything, and that Thanos wanted it in order to wipe out half of the cosmos, but he also knew that it would be a powerful weapon to use against the Mad Titan. He may as well get used to harnessing its power. He focused on where he thought (read: was fairly certain) the room was, summoning his strength before maneuvering the contents of the room into the top of the house, where he knew the ‘attic’ would be.

Another click, shifting in his brain, and then his task was complete. His eyes drifted back open, clearing his vision with several rapid blinks, before the room came back into focus, fatigue sweeping over him. “What the fu- heck was that?” Barton asked, correcting the vulgarity, and he figured there must have been some visual clue to indicate what he was doing, because the small boy was staring up at him with awe.

Slowly, he knelt in front of him, favoring his left leg. “I must ask your permission as well, if I am to reside in your place of dwelling.” The boy nodded gravely, although he likely didn’t understand half of what he said. His spine stiffened, and he bowed at the waist, hands wringing behind his back.

“You can!” He chirped, and Loki nodded, taking his hand and bowing despite the pressure it put on his ligaments. He stood, grabbing the daughter’s tiny hand in his and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. She giggled softly, shyly burying her face into her father’s neck, and his heart warmed.

Turning to Laura, he smiled, standing up. “My culture has a strong culinary tradition, and I am a fine chef.” He said, clasping his hands together. “If you would allow me, I would like to provide you with a fitting luncheon.”

Her eyes widened once more. “If you insist!” She agreed, disbelief coloring her voice, and he laughed.

“I do indeed.” He started to call upon the Space Stone once more. “I’ll be only a moment, and I will be back with the supplies I need.” He explained as to not cause worry, before he teleported away.

—

If there was one thing that ‘Loki’ was, it was a damn good cook.

He’d made some broth that was something like a meat soup, and had baked homemade bread that melted in your mouth and tasted like heaven in the form of a loaf. They devoured it easily, but Loki had wanted to make more, and he would have if they hadn’t explained that wherever he came from, they could probably eat a lot less. The man had shrugged, murmured something about ‘more for later’, and changed from the apron and basic clothing set that he had worn into a set of green robes with his magic.

Loose and elaborately embroidered, his son had asked him if he was ‘alien royalty’, and if he lived in a palace with castles and dragons, knights and beautiful princesses.

The man had smiled sadly, fondly, softly. “I did, once.” He answered, pelting his son’s hair with gentleness. “However, I made some... unfortunately bad decisions, and lost it all. My family, my home, everything of my old life.” His son’s smile had fell, and Loki had been quick to reassure him. “But now, I work on this planet with your father, and I’m happier than I’ve been in a while.”

“Dad’s like that!” Cooper had said, perking up immediately. “He always helps people, even if they don’t think they need it.”

Loki had chuckled, glancing up to him. “He certainly is meddlesome.”

That had been hours before, and the mysterious alien (ex-prince?) had summoned a simple cot in his newly-cleaned room, immediately collapsing and instantly falling asleep, a soft snore starting up like a purr. He curled up like a cat, sunlight bathing him, and Clint had watched him for a while before shutting the door, careful not to let it creak as it closed.

Curiously, the vase of sunflowers that appeared on his windowsill looked familiar, and that hadn’t escaped Clint’s notice.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki erects defenses on the Barton property, and considers the exact nature of his employment with SHIELD.

As Loki came to, awareness filtered in gradually. An oddly pleasant but undefinable scent emanating from the soft, clean pillow beneath his head, the feeling of a blanket over his back, bright sunlight illuminating the world through his eyelids. He was undeniably comfortable, and when he intentionally took a deep breath of air, it was crisp and cold. Hearing birds chirping through the open window, he slowly pushed himself up on his palms, rolling over so his neck was no longer bent at an awkward, crooked angle. Laying like that, arms splayed, he found himself appreciative that he’d stumbled into the best alleyway he could have possibly found himself in. As much as he could feel the dull ache in his hip, the throbbing pain in his head, and the dryness of his throat, his state was objectively much better than the one he had found himself in the week before. Soon, he would need to set up barriers of seidur and wards against any watchful eyes around the house, but that could wait until he was more awake.

Finally moving to get up, he leveraged himself up onto his elbows, then the rest of the way until he was leaning on his hands. He rubbed at his eyes, allowing his blanket to pool in his lap while he blearily opened them, and took in the plain room around him. The bed had already been inside, alongside some of the other items of furniture. When Loki had moved the boxes that had been in storage to his pocket dimension, for the Barton family’s convenience, he had left those items untouched. He hadn’t decorated, save for the lovely flowers that he wished he knew the name of, so it was just plain, white walls, his new bed, a desk, and an odd, small table with drawers at his bedside, alongside a pair of doors that presumably led to a closet. Swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, he grabbed his walking stick and limped out of his new bedroom out the door to the bathroom down the hallway, still in the suit he had been wearing the day before, although the fabric had been wrinkled.

Locking the door behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief at having not been spotted, although he could hear chattering downstairs. Sweaty and feeling mildly claustrophobic, he undressed himself with a wave of his hand, clothes folding themselves neatly onto the counter. After taking a piss that he needed more than he had realized, he stepped over the rim of the wash basin and into it as carefully as he could. It took some exploration and experimentation, twisting knobs that evidently weren’t supposed to be twisted and pressing on everything that extended from the wall, but Loki eventually discovered how to activate the flow of water. While he was startled by the liquid that came from above him rather than the faucet below, after the initial shock, the first jet of warm water to hit his face was a relief.

With a soap that came from a bottle constructed from a strange material that smelled strangely of oats, he rinsed out his tangled hair, rubbing it into his scalp and allowing it to foam, twisting his hair and combing his fingers through it to spread it through the individual dark strands. Allowing it to sit like that, he lathered the same soap across his flesh, coating every part of himself and allowing it to wash away with the sweat that had once slicked his skin. Loki tilted his head back and under the stream of water, eyes closing as he gently washed the soap out of it. From there, he fumbled further with the faucets in an attempt to deactivate the shower, and when he succeeded, he stepped out and onto a mat placed upon the hard floor.

With another wave of his hand, the water from his body had accumulated itself into a ball, and he was left with a spherical mass of water in his right palm. He dropped it into the sink with a splash, watching it go down the porcelain basin’s drain. He made quick work of summoning a simple sweater and trousers for himself, the access to his personal pocket dimension something he was grateful for after having it stripped away by Ebony Maw during the deconstruction of his mind. Lifting the sweater above his head, he pulled it on over himself, its soft, green fabric sliding smoothly against his skin in a manner that shouldn’t have been as relaxing as it was. He used magic to slip on his pants, knowing he wouldn’t be able to lift his leg high enough to slip it inside, and fastened a belt around his waist through the loops in his trousers.

Banishing his suit from the day before, he leaned forwards, balancing himself on the counter as he inspected himself in the mirror. Cheekbones hollow and eyes sunken in, hair tangled and unkempt, he looked exhausted and gaunt, and while he had always been skinny, he’d never been emaciated. Even to himself he looked haunted, and summoning a comb to run through his hair until it was silky and tame once more did nothing to detract from his haunted expression. After a long moment of staring at himself in the mirror, he tied his hair back with a simple green ribbon and slipped a glamor over himself, hoping that he would have the strength to maintain it for the rest of the day.

From the moment he stepped out of the steamy bathroom and into the hallway, he was assaulted by the smell of eggs and toast. The grumble his stomach emitted was simply obscene, hunger suddenly crippling, and as he walked to the staircase, keeping a hand on the rail and moving slowly as he limped down the stairs step by step, the scent only got stronger as he approached the kitchen and dining room. The talking continued, and when he turned the corner, he was confronted by a dining room illuminated by the morning sun, its light nearly blinding him as he raised his hand to block it. He could make out Laura’s children at the table, utensils clumsily held in their grasps as they tucked into their food like starving wolf cubs, and Laura across from them, carefully eating her own breakfast.

Laura turned to him when he entered the room, a smile visible on her face for only a moment before she was covering her face with her hand to finish chewing, swallowing the food noisily and sucking her teeth clean before speaking to him. “Would you like breakfast?” She asked, already pushing her chair back to stand up. Laura wiped her hands off on a napkin that had been in her lap, lifting it and setting it on the table, and he nodded. “I’ve got eggs, toast, and bacon, if you want any.”

“Yes, please,” Loki answered, voice breaking, and he was abruptly reminded of how parched he was. She pulled out a chair, and he sat in it with a relieved sigh, smiling in thanks while she moved to make a plate for him. The two Midgardian children in front of him kept sparing him fleeting glances, curiosity outweighing their evident shyness, and he let himself smile at them as well.

“Here you go, Lo’,” Laura said, walking around him.

A plate was set down on the table mat in front of him, piled high with delightful-smelling food, and with every ounce of self-restraint he had left in his possession, he kept his hands in his lap. “Thank you very much,” he said politely, and when he picked up his utensils with trembling hands and began to eat his breakfast, he nearly moaned at how satisfying it was. After months of barely being allowed what sustenance he needed to survive, Loki felt like he could eat everything in the Realm.

“So,” she said as she wiped her daughter’s face with a napkin, “I suppose you convinced them to not lock you in a maximum-security prison?”

If he had less composure, he might have choked around his food, but instead, he simply swallowed down his mouthful of eggs and smiled in a manner he hoped seemed charming rather than frustrated. He tapped his utensils against the spongy bread on the side of his plate, anxious to get back to eating. “Well,” he said, “I believe they realized that I would be impossible to contain, not to mention that your planetary defenses are lacking and aim the best one to fix that.”

“_Well_, Clint told me to tell you that Fury wants to have a meeting with you later about important, classified business that, technically, I’m not supposed to know the details of,” Laura said, “so I suppose that if you really are the best for the job, you’ll have your hands full.” Loki continued stuffing his face as gracefully as he could while she persisted in talking, seeming to realize that his first priority was eating rather than making small talk. “As I said before, I’m a registered nurse in the city,” she explained as he ate, and Loki supposed that it explained what bleary memories he had of their first meeting. She sat down across from him, eyes flitting between him and her children, gaze weary as if she was on the watch for potential mayhem. Everything she did only served to remind him of Frigga, the woman he dearly wished he could call his mother. “I mostly work with oncology patients. It’s a fulfilling career...”

As she told him about her life, her children joined in to share humorous, although poorly delivered anecdotes and jokes. Meanwhile, he weighed different spells and rituals in his head based on protective value, trying to discern which he’d be most likely to cast well. Despite his use of the Space Stone, he was still quite weak, and if the Stone hadn’t wanted to help him, then he likely would have been blown to pieces, or otherwise maimed or teleported somewhere unappealing. It would be quite some time before he would be able to rely on his seidur again, and it was all he could do to put the thought of Thanos tracking him down out of his mind.

When he had cleared his plate, unwilling to ask for a second helping, he stood, moving to the kitchen sink and placing his dish inside, favoring his good leg. “If you wouldn’t mind,” Loki said when there was a lull in the one-sided conversation, “I would like to explore the grounds some.”

She seemed to understand he wished to be alone, although he doubted that she realized he was about to set up seidur traps and barriers around her property. “Go ahead,” she said, “and just holler if you need me.”

“Wait,” the boy said, “but his leg!”

“He’ll be okay, Cooper, sweetie,” she assured him, but the boy’s petulant frown deepened. He squirmed in his seat and twisted his hands together, unable to disguise his worry. “He’s an adult,” she said, “and if he wants to go outside, then he can go outside.”

“Indeed,” Loki said, amused by the irony of the fact that he was barely of majority on Asgard. He wasn’t sure how old he was for a Jotun, although he was certain they had lifespans that could be longer than the Aesir. “It will be good to stretch my legs.”

Reassurances made Cooper relax, and he nodded, slipping out of his seat. “I wanna’ go play,” he grumbled, seeming to forget about his prior concern.

“Go ahead,” Laura said.

Grateful that the child was pacified and Laura wasn’t about to interrogate him about his reasons for wanting to take a walk, Loki hurried out the front door, squinting in the morning light and properly surveying the property for the first time. Wide fields of grass surrounded him, marked by the occasional tree, and he could see a fence in the distance where the property line was presumably drawn. It wouldn’t be easily defensible, should the Mad Titan come knocking, but that was why he would rely on seidur instead.

He headed out towards the wooden fence, pretending to not notice the men with rifles trained on him and the SHIELD logo affixed to their helmets, and ignoring the cameras and sensors placed strategically in the branches above him. It was tedious work to carve defensive runes into each post of the fence, the tip of the knife he had stealthily pocketed before digging into the wood with a rough, grating noise. When he had circled the property, coming back to the first post he had carved, he retreated farther inwards towards a large oak tree to meditate and cast a shielding spell around the area. Once he successfully retrieved the Mind Stone from wherever it was located, he would be able to track down the rest of them with simply a thought, and although Loki knew he couldn’t shield himself completely, it would slow the Mad Titan down and buy him time to prepare himself to face him.

With his walking stick, he lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs underneath him with a grunt as his hip twinged. Setting it aside, he took several deep breaths, allowing his fingers to furl in the grass, blades slipping between the digits as his eyes closed. The Space Stone was a strong presence in his mind, as connected as they were, but he temporarily pushed it out of his thoughts to clear way for the emptiness he would need to cast the barrier.

One minute, he was sitting in the field, and the next, his fingertips were brushing against a cold, metal floor.

—

Opening his eyes, he was on the ship again, with its darkened halls and tight, claustrophobic rooms. Inhaling shakily, he stumbled to his feet, looking around the cell he had found himself inside. “It isn’t real,” he said firmly to himself, voice sounding distorted and far away, and the words reverberated within his own head. Walking forwards, he kept focused on weaving the barriers, knowing that his mind was just taking him somewhere else, somewhere unpleasant while he worked in order to fill in the gap in his awareness.

As he walked, the halls twisted, and agonized faces seemed to move in the walls, mouths agape in noiseless screams as if they were trying to get his attention. He pointedly ignored the nightmarish architecture, the empty, starless expanse of blackened space outside the ship’s windows, but something drew him forwards, tugging him towards the heart of the ship. Heart racing, his breathing quickened the closer he went to his destination, although he still wasn’t sure what it was trying to show him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain his awareness, and, clutching at his shirt, he realized he was wearing the same robes he had been clothed in the day he had fallen into the void.

Heart racing, the pumping of it audible in his own ears, he walked around a corner into an enormous, empty room, pillars lining either side of the grand hall in almost a mockery of the one Asgard’s palace, although it was significantly more barren. He hadn’t seen a single Chitauri warrior, and it reinforced his belief that it was all a fever dream. But then the throne at the end of the hall spun around, and it didn’t matter.

The Infinity Gauntlet on his hand, just like the one in the Asgardian Vaults. Five out of six Infinity Stones were embedded into it, blazing with unbridled power and destructive energy. Thanos was glaring fiercely down at him, eyes squinting in disgust, and suddenly, he felt like he was the size of a door-mouse.

“Insolent child,” he rumbled.

The world splintered around him.

All the air he had was forcibly expelled from his achy chest in one violent motion, and he was left futilely gasping for breath as the ship’s hull peeled away, leaving him in the featureless expanse of space that he belatedly realized had been the Void.

—

Jolting awake, his eyes flew open, and he turned to hurl into the grass next to himself. Gagging, he clutched his stomach, bile slipping through his lips, and as he spat up what he had eaten, he began to shake. When he was finished, mouth tasting sour, he wiped his lips with the back of his right hand and cleaned up the mess with a wave of the other. Swiftly, he grabbed his walking stick and stumbled to his feet. At least when he reached out with his mind, it brushed against the barrier he had successfully created.

“I’m safe,” he murmured to himself, although it didn’t reassure him. Starting to limp back towards the house, he avoided looking back behind him, keeping his eyes fixed on the front porch.

When he arrived, Clint was waiting for him with his arms folded across his chest, suited up in a leather ensemble with a jacket on over it. There was a ship waiting for them that he was willing to presume was incapable of inter-planetary travel, and if he had to make a guess, it was to transport him back to the headquarters. “If you’re done sight-seeing,” he grumbled, “we have places to be, and not a lot of time to get there.”

Clint led him towards the vehicle, hopping into the pilot’s seat, and when he strapped himself in, Loki hopped inside as well. Buckling the seatbelt provided, he shut the door, and Clint didn’t waste another moment before taking off, heading towards SHIELD headquarters. He wondered why he couldn’t just teleport them there, but he’d need the address anyways, and, judging by the operatives that had been hiding on the property, they didn’t quite trust him yet, understandably. He’d shown up seemingly out of nowhere, from their perspective, stole the most powerful artifact in their possession, then claimed it was to save the world from an enormously powerful alien. He held no resentment for the organization, besides a mild irritation towards needing to utilize a more ordinary means of transportation.

Exhausted and in no mood for conversation, he kept himself from groaning in frustration when Clint attempted to start asking questions. “So,” he sighed, tapping his fingers nervously on his thighs, “what made you decide working for SHIELD was your best bet rather than just freelancing?”

There were a lot of reasons that he wasn’t mentally present enough to overanalyze at the moment. Normally, he’d properly dissect the query, but as it was, he opted for a witty retort instead. “Canon fodder,” he answered simply, and that made his associate cackle.

“I suppose that’s what we are, from the perspective of enormously powerful intergalactic beings,” Clint conceded.

The conversation lulled for a time as farms and landscape passed underneath them, the countryside odd in its diversity of biomes. Midgard was large, and clearly showed it. During their ride, they could have crossed from one end of Asgard to another.

“Discreet but advanced transportation, extra security, strange protocol. It’s almost as if you don’t trust me,” Loki mused eventually when the silence grew to be too much.

“Well, no shit,” Clint said, barking out a harsh but genuine laugh. Turning away to save his own dignity, Loki hid a smile. There was no need to stroke the ego of the man sitting beside him by being visibly amused.

SHIELD headquarters ended up as a large, square building, almost as monotonous as the organization itself. The helicopter landed on the roof, propellers slowing to a stop, and he slid out, taking in the wind that made his hair lash against his face and the view of a sprawling industrial city. Midgard had advanced much since Asgard had last tried to interfere, and while the modern Midgard hadn’t seemed nearly as impressive in the hamlet Thor had been banished to, technological and societal advancement seemed to depend more on geographic location than anything else. They traveled down to the ground floor using a strange box-shaped device, and when he stepped into the lobby, he considered what had brought him there.

He had enough self-awareness to realize that joining SHIELD was just a desperate attempt to regain his control. But as he stood in the massive lobby of the facility, windows letting in morning light while strangers moved around him like he was a rock parting a stream, he felt like he’d taken the reigns again, even if the organization was pitifully organized and would be painfully ineffective at their job if the need arose for them to take action against their enemies. Thor had learned from the mortals, and bitterly, he thought that if he could as well, maybe he’d prove to Odin that he could be as good and noble as _any_ true-born Asgardian.

**Author's Note:**

> AUs are my bread and butter, especially ones that involve Loki as a SHIELD Agent. This one has been in my folders for a while now haha, so I’m glad to be able to post it!


End file.
